


you were always there for me

by kittenbeans



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gaming, Growing Up Together, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenbeans/pseuds/kittenbeans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes silence is better than words</p>
            </blockquote>





	you were always there for me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oikawabae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oikawabae/gifts).



> seb finally. you got an ao3. i have been waiting a year for this. write lots of spanish smut 4 me pls. i need it like omori

He wasn’t really emotional or affectionate, and if there was one word that could sum up the life of Kozume Kenma it would be impassive. Of course, this applied to those that were strictly outside of his comfort zone; he never complained, never spoke up. A few people questioned if he was mute, which he replied with a silent shake of his aureate hair (the start of his roots were starting to break through at the time). It wasn’t the best way to reply, but Kenma honestly found no reason why he should. People will be people and even if he opened his mouth and said “no, I’m not,” the others that hadn’t heard would come up, ask. A few people would lie about hearing it.

Kenma couldn’t control what others thought, so he often didn’t bother with them. He preferred himself, could control himself, except for the small slips of his thin eyebrows and how he saved his voice for important things. Like games or someone he was interested in.

Of course there were a few exceptions. Maybe one.

When he was little, sometime during the end of second grade, a boy who was older just popped in, baring his messy head and sought a friend to play volleyball with. He hadn’t even registered his presence until there he was, expectant eyes and proud smile. And just like that, he had become part of his life.

To Kuroo, Kenma was passive, rather than impassive. He saw the faint frowns, the surprised eyes, the smiles, the type of lethargic movements, more so than usual, he gets when it’s raining outside. At first he remembers how Kenma never said a word to him, until one day he asked, “why do you play volleyball”. It was flat, not really a question, not a statement either, but Kuroo could tell that Kenma didn’t want to play anymore, he got tired. But he stopped a moment, and spoke his heart out. Maybe Kenma would be ambitious and seek to be a great volleyball player with him, as he expressed, with vibrant tales of them becoming champions and a combination of them together, “we”.

Kenma, in return, said nothing. Kuroo was getting better at reading him though, and he saw a small, sated upturn of chapped lips.

That was how it remained since. A “we” and “together”.

 

By the time Kenma’s mother kicked him out to sleep over Kuroo’s house (“I just want you to have fun,” she said), he might’ve been a bit scared, but he had admittedly already known what it felt like to “sleep over” at Kuroo’s soft, cozy home. He had been there more times than he could count on two hands (“Seventeen,” Kuroo corrected him later. To the taller, everyday Kenma came over was a special occasion), and his blackened puff of head had curled up to Kuroo at least five times. He hadn’t minded being a pillow. One time, Kenma woke up to a fuzzy blue blanket wrapped around the both of them, a wild, dark mess smothered against his cheek; he had honestly, truly, never felt such peace.

So he packed a bunch of video games he loved for the both of them, had trouble stuffing his Gamecube into his backpack and resorted to holding his first generation PSP; he didn’t have anything to put it in.

They decided to bring everything up into Kuroo’s “sick” room (which lacked two hundred video games) and Kenma decided that here, now was the time that he'd share. Maybe, possibly, if Kuroo was a hidden GTA III fan.

"Here," he said, straight-faced and steady, despite his inner tormoil. It was a silver controller, one of his favorites. Unsurprisingly, Kuroo looked at him funny for a moment, but then he reached out, took it. He grinned.

"Y'know, Kenma," he jerked his head towards his closet. "I have a Nintendo 64 in there. I never had anyone to play it with-"

Before he could finish, Kenma had already bolted to his feet. He could feel his heart racing-

"Maybe we can go on a Zombies Ate My Neighbor marathon," Kuroo suggested. "Together."

Kenma could feel his cheeks hurting from smiling so hard.

In the end, they ended up passing out around one in the morning anyway, Kenma buried in Kuroo's back, happy and content. Kuroo on the other hand, had the pillows he was laying on crushed to his ears, face down; you could barely see the tips of his frizzy hair. Snacks were scattered out and about in layers of crumbs and piles - it was undeniably the most fun Kenma's had. In his life.

 

"You can use my sweatshirt," Kuroo said. It was raining outside, and he was confused as to how he would protect his PSP, under his shirt, crushing it in his backpack? "It's my best one, so be sure to take care of it, okay?"

Kenma nodded, hands shaking and eyes grateful as Kuroo handed over a folded bright crimson bundle.

He never gave it back, and kept it until it became too small. And Kuroo - he never mentioned it.

 

Soon he became older, going to junior high after Kuroo had already been there a year. Along with age came new consoles and new games to play with the sixth grader and he always played with Kenma, excitedly, unbreakably. He got better in the time they spent together, so much that he beat Kenma approximately forty three times to seventy seven ("You're now a worthy opponent," he said, cat eyes sharp and a smile upon his tinny face). It was a pretty repeditive life - but it was good. Kenma never wanted it to change.

But soon, Kuroo wanted to do something else for the both of them. He wanted Kenma to see more, experience more; he wanted Kenma to feel how exciting it was to be in a volleyball match against people who were more than mundane, he wanted Kenma to try. For the other boy to come up to him one day and say,"That was amazing!", instead of a slightly indifferent glance to the risky, staying in the safe.

Kenma knew this. Kuroo told him in the late nights they spent together dreaming of the future and boy did he dream big - he wanted to become somebody, but - "not without you, Kenma".

And it became a habit, really, to not do without Kenma. He made different friends, other than him, but he left in a heartbeat for him, or brought him along. Some found it a bit strange, how inseperable they were, how they shared everything - food, drinks, clothing, homework. He dosen't know the last time he slept in his bed without a breathing, miniscule body sleeping by his side. But like Kenma quoted, "People will be people," and Kuroo didn't really care what others thought. He was kinda proud of Kenma, actually, of someone so cool staying by his side. And Kenma - he didn't care what he had to say! He could rant, curse, cry (which he never did, he swears) and Kenma will still stay there, offering his new DS lite, his shoulder, or leaning gently into his side. Kuroo liked his lack of words, since they never worked exactly right for him either. He had to admit, sometimes silence is better than saying anything.

Thankfully, Kenma agreed with a bit of persuasion in the form of RPGs - he wouldn't do anything without him.

And in one distant, fleeting match that he barely even remembers anymore - he swore he saw determination in the boy's bright golden eyes.

 

There came times when a person or two asked if he liked Kenma (he was just starting ninth grade when it began), and he said,"Yes, I do." Despite him knowing what they meant, Kuroo decided that he'd act oblivious - despite Kenma also knowing what they meant.

He didn't like him like that, of course. He just - he woke up every morning to Kenma's sleeping face and he was kind of overwhelmed by the sheer amount of endearment he felt towards him. He wanted to always be in his life, protect him, buy him that one shitty game even though it costed a fortune - he wanted to be part of his life. He wanted Kenma to always remember him and think back and say "hey, he was a great guy. I miss him." But he suppossed even that wouldn't be enough, because he didn't want Kenma to ever miss him, he wanted Kenma to always know that if he did, he'll be right on his doorstep, with Kenma's spare key. That if he was sad, he was welcome to call him anytime of anyday and yell at him if it meant his happiness.

Yet, it wasn't liking. It was, in fact, a form of love, but perhaps it was familial, friendly. Yeah, that was it. Because no matter what, he'd always love Kenma and his little nose and his hot breaths of air in the middle of winter when they were both cold, when he'd curl up close to his heart.

 

They sometimes enjoyed being extravagant with their strange relationship from time to time. They weren't the same size in clothes, ever, really. But Kenma made it a joke for Kuroo to wake up without his own pair of pants or a shirt, leaving him a pair of the smaller boy's.

Long ago, Kenma had started to wear baggier things just so Kuroo would be able to wear his clothes, too. He liked it, he thought. That they could switch clothes whenever - of course with the minor fact that Kuroo's shirts slid a bit off his shoulder, his pants so long he sometimes tripped and Kenma's shirt was tight around new highschooler Kuroo, his chest outlined, his pants sometimes highlighting areas that. Shouldn't.

But in all honesty, they were happy. No need to destroy it.

On days they couldn't act so foolish (read: during school), they wore the other's boxers, socks, jerseys. Kuroo's stated that he wished he'd be brave enough to have Kenma's occupied, colorful things that were always so fun, so aesthetic to look at, but he remained stone-stuck in his plains and blanks.

"You're brave enough," he replied. "We're just both caught in familiarity; I wish I could be as clean cut as you."

In other words, Kuroo hugged him tight after school in fear that he wanted to change himself.

 

Once in a while, Kenma would get nostalgic. It was often during the times when he was playing his PS Vita on Kuroo's chest, laying against the steady in-and-out movements. It soothed him.

But then he'd stop, look up at Kuroo's distracted face as he tapped his screen to the beat of some osu! map and roll off in favor of watching the taller. This time, it was Hello, How Are You? by Hatsune Miku and a brown haired girl was crying in the background. He had shown Kuroo this about three months ago and his favorite map was still the first one he ever beat: Tear Rain by cYsmix feat. Emmy. It was a basic, common one, but he was still stupidly proud of himself and the impressed shock Kuroo gave him when he shouted. Now, he boasts seventeenth in national rankings; maybe about the top thousand, or ten thousand, internationally.

But that wasn't important right now. And as Kuroo dropped his iPhone, he knew and was getting emotional himself.

"Let's build a fort," he said. "Let's play Mario Kart 64 again, let's play Animal Crossing, let's sleep on the floor. We can listen to those old songs that came out when we were like five-"

"Iris?" Kenma asked.

"Goo Goo Dolls, of course. And Snow Patrol, hell, let's listen to The Fray. I don't know I just... feel really old. I miss being young."

"We still are," Kenma said.

Kuroo gave him a sad look. It was equally depressing to look at. "Can we? Can we still be young?"

It was a disheartening question. But Kenma saw no reason why they couldn't be. They could be young and stupid until they couldn't and even then, they'd continue to be.

"Why not?" Kenma fought back the doubt within Kuroo's mind and jumped upwards, hopping off the (their) bed to drag Kuroo out of his little sadness. "Let's steal everyone's blankets."

"And pillows." Kuroo insisted.

Quietly, they exchanged a glance. Kenma was the first off, Kuroo staring for a second before realizing that yes, Kenma was challenging him to a race.

Of course, Kenma ended up winning. He usually did when he found something worth the struggle to. And five minutes after, he saw a mass of pillows place themselves in the middle of the room, Kuroo under it and hair messier than it was before. He was panting, too, as if he really tried his hardest, of which Kenma didn't ignore - he was never easy on Kenma.

"Okay," He said. "Let's build a fort."

And it was the best fort they've ever made, they thought. The recliners they moved from in Kuroo's room spaced out perfectly, the broomsticks standing tall and high so that when the comforter was spread above, it was like a clubhouse from some ninety's movie. They threw more blankets above and inside, they threw pillows, and whatever remained. Kenma grabbed the flatscreen against the wall and removed it, placing it within the confines of their cushioned fort, along with the Nintendo 64 they hooked up and the other consoles that accumulated in Kuroo's room over the years. It was no longer Kuroo's room, it was their room.

When they both snatched enough snacks ("You got me apple pie," Kenma said) and enough drinks, they retreated upstairs to their room and crawled inside their fort. Just like Kuroo wanted, what Kenma wanted, they played songs they grew up with through the laptop Kuroo got for Kenma on his fourteenth birthday until it died, played old and new games like the original Zelda and Super Smash Bros. They both wound up getting really far in morgage paying inside their Animal Crossing copies they got for each other and that day, Kenma gave Kuroo his first PSP and DS. For the rest of the night, Kuroo's eyes were welling up with tears, but that was okay, really. Kuroo never showed how truly sentimental he was unless he was with Kenma.

Kuroo never cried as much as he did that night.

 

When they both were in highschool, Kenma was a second year, Kuroo was a third, and while Kenma had told Kuroo he'll never date anyone, Kuroo had yet to be attached to anyone as much as he had become with Kenma. In a way, they both knew that Kuroo couldn't move on to possibly sleeping with someone else as they found out one night months ago.

He had slept on the floor out of pure exhaustion; he decided to not bother Kuroo sleeping and sat on their warm rug. He had been playing on his phone well into the morning, and when he shut his eyes, he didn't know it until Kuroo shook him awake, a terrified look on his face.

"You scared me," he had said. "I thought - I don't know what I thought, but I was so scared."

And that one night practically screamed that they could never be without the other.

So when Kuroo was confessed to, for about the nth time, they were refused. He had once told a girl a while back that he had someone, but it was fake. Kenma would know if Kuroo was interested and no, he wasn't. He was never interested.

Kenma was also confessed to, but he simply shook his head no, as he had when was young and as he did now. He wasn't interested either.

Until he ran into a boy, hair like fire and eyes like sunshine and he felt his heart catch in his throat and he thought - oh. Is this it? He hadn't known this, this feeling of a racing type of adrenaline, that made his mouth dry, his face warm. Turns out the boy was from Karasuno, with an ambition like no other, and was a main spiker to a tall, scary looking setter that he remembered from junior high. Hinata and Kageyama, the oddball duo.

He kept it to himself, thinking the best, hoping for the best, excited for once in his life, but he was let down. He saw Hinata, admirable, adorable Hinata, say something and he saw, he heard the passion in his voice as he spoke to Kageyama, and Kageyama, he looked funny. He looked overwhelmed, as he saw Kuroo look more than just a few times and he knew that it was a bond like the one he and Kuroo had. It was an inseperable one, but they weren't childhood friends; it was love. Pure, undeniable, silly love.

In return, he got a bit distant from Kuroo for those days he spent in limbo and pendulum. And the day after the match with the weird Karasuno bunch, he came out and told Kuroo what was up.

They were watching an anime that had just recently premired, something called Zankyou no Terror and he said,"Hinata's cute."

He saw Kuroo horrified, for a fraction of a second, watched as the third year struggled within himself to pause what they were watching, but instead he stayed calm. Continued to observe the screen with slightly more concentration.

"Really? Number ten, huh," it was kind of forced. Kenma knew this. Kuroo knew that Kenma knew this.

"I never felt so different," Kenma explained. "I guess that's what a crush is."

Kuroo was silent, composed. But he turned his head towards Kenma and his arm rose to tuck him under his chin. And there, Kenma could hear the beats within his chest.

"It'll go away. It already is." Kenma said.

"Yeah," Kuroo sighed.

They were back to normal, kinda.

 

The training camp came faster than someone could guess and along with it came warm nights and hotter days. Like whenever summer came, it was harder to stay together under the covers, but soon Kuroo finally caved in and lugged out the air conditioner, chills returned and Kenma wore at least two sweatshirts when he slept. Happy ending for the both of them - except for Kuroo's sudden heart palpitations.

Lucky for them, the room they slept in was heavy with ice. They had picked a spot near an outlet and that was all Kenma needed to be happy and with Kuroo. So that they could sleep - together.

"Bokuto Koutaru," the captain intruduced himself. "Nice to meet you, Neko-san."

"Same. My name's Kuroo Tetsurou."

"Oho? Can I call you Black-san?"

"Please refrain from doing so, Owl-head."

It was an interesting match, but those days with Bokuto were the days that he laughed the most. Kuroo had never felt so annoying in his life, but it was okay. Bokuto was his annoying self tenfold, and Tsukki was such a prick that it was hard not to smash his pride. If it can even be called that. And of course, all the pranks they pulled on the other members. It was exhilerating to say the least and he might've felt a twinge of sentimentality towards Bokuto's weird ass ways, but it flashed momentarily, when they were running away from Coach Ukai. He didn't enjoy the fake whipped cream and it was a moment worth wasting a phone for. Bokuto's phone, of course.

They got it back in the dead of night though and Kuroo managed to sneak his cell number. He was chill and he could just picture all the fun they could have.

It was that same night that Kuroo decided to take a bath at two the morning, after fooling around so hard his chest heaved and he stopped breathing. He had forgotten about Kenma - had he gotten closer to that Hinata kid?

"Tetsurou," he heard sometime, somewhere in his mind, so he turned, saw Kenma's horrible roots that he really had to fix once this camp was over. Bare feet slapping against wet floor, he walked over to the smaller boy.

"I really have to fix your hair," he said, distant. He ran a few strands in his hands, watching as they slipped easily through curled fingers; Kenma always had nice hair. He said so a lot, he hated his own mess of a bedhead.

"I think your hair is really chill," Kenma says, eyes off into a corner somewhere.

For a second, Kuroo has to process that, yes, Kenma had in fact just said chill and he was laughing because damn. Kenma's so cute, little button nose, cat slits and all.

He pat his head, lovingly. "You're starting to turn into Bokuto. Move over a bit."

Kenma does and Kuroo strips unthinkingly, throwing his clothes far and getting in beside Kenma. It's just as he thought; the water's warm and boy, did he miss the days when they bathed together. It made him a bit emotional, actually. 

"Would you want that?"

Kuroo doesn't open his eyes. "Want what?"

"For me to turn into Bokuto."

In that moment, his heart pounds so hard - why would Kenma ever, ever say that? But that was a thought he had before he saw the amused gleam in Kenma's cat-like hues - he was kidding. He's reminded of a time when he hugged Kenma for an entire day because he thought he wanted to change and suddenly, suddenly, he feels like hugging him again. He never wanted Kenma to change.

"Don't change," he says. "Don't."

"I know."

Kuroo glares at him hard.

"I won't," he refunds what he said, smiling.

"Come here," Kuroo opens his arms, inviting. The water dripping down from him was loud and filled in the silence he was greeted with. "Hug me and tell me that again."

Confident, Kenma makes his way over, and Kuroo notices the high flush on his body from the steam and how tiny he was and when Kenma does come, they're tight against one another and it's kind of intimate in a different way. It's skin against skin contact and Kenma's wet hair is against his collarbone - Kenma decides to sit directly in his lap, straddling it and he feels something else press against his own. He knows what it is, but he can't bring himself to say anything about it, it feels right, it feels natural. Kenma's arms are tucked under his, and his are wrapped around this small, beautiful person and he, he feels that all's right in the world.

"I won't," Kenma said. It was hot against his skin and he felt a little jolt of warmth rise from it, but nonetheless, he replied, "Good." He lowered his head in a move to kiss the crown of Kenma's head, but Kenma moved his head up at the same time and wound up kissing his nose. It was shocking, for a moment, but it wore off.

"Can I," Kenma started. Kuroo lifted an eyebrow in an effort to make Kenma laugh. He does and it's short, breathy. "Can I kiss your nose, too?"

"You don't have to ask," Kuroo responds. "But make sure you kiss it real hard."

Kenma nodded, hesitating. His eyelids lowered and Kuroo felt his own start to get heavy from how close they were. Lifting himself a bit, they felt their dicks rub together as Kenma neared Kuroo's nose and just as he was about to kiss it, he withdrew, and kissed his lips. Immediately, Kenma felt a hand trace up his spine and thread in his hair as those warm lips moved against his own, so he opened his eyes mid-kiss and was met with pitch black ones that were lidded and blushing. And yeah, his lips were as soft as he imagined.

Slowly, lips just resting against one another, they parted, but they remained in close proximity.

"That wasn't my nose," Kuroo said dumbly.

"Yeah," Kenma muttered.

"Can I kiss you again?"

"Mmm," Kenma hummed.

Closing the distance, he kissed Kenma for the second time in the quick, full seventeen years of his life he's lived. It was something he dreamt about since that time in junior high when he realized that he loved Kenma, and it was better than those stupid dreams, when he woke up hot and bothered, when he slunk off to his minimal bathroom to jerk off to thoughts of just Kenma kissing him and telling him he loved him when he was in his room right at that moment, sleeping soundly or perhaps waiting for his return.

And in this moment, he felt that it was worth it completely. Because the lips that now moved in harmony with his were pent up and matched him emotionally; their newborn love wasn't just newborn, it was building up into one big gross mess of kisses, sharing and maybe, maybe-

"Tetsurou," Kenma moaned in between kisses and he felt the other's tongue outline his inner lips and everything, everything was just too perfect for him.

"Kenma," he whispered. "Maybe we should go to sleep."

He felt the nod against his face and the disagreement against their erections.

 

"Are you cozy?" Kuroo asked, the ball of blanket next to him twisting and turning. He was bound to wake the others with the way that he moved.

Oh, he stopped. "Come under with me."

Rolling his eyes, he lifted the covers and met Kenma halfway. "What's wrong?"

He saw his tiny hands reach out for him and grab onto his shirt, pulling him closer until he could rest his head against, against the others cheek. Arms hugged his neck and Kuroo could feel the flames beneath his cheeks.

"You're not close enough," he said lowly.

Kuroo had another emotional attack and in fear that Kenma, this Kenma didn't exist he gripped him just as tight.

"I am now."


End file.
